Why Hardworking Comedians Stop Growing

The Hidden Reward That Keeps Comedians Stuck (Comedy Mindhacks #120)

I’ve met a lot of comedians who desperately want to get better. They’re not chasing fame, Netflix specials, or celebrity status. They simply want to become exceptional at their craft. They write every week, hit open mics whenever they can, listen to podcasts, read books, and talk constantly about becoming stronger comedians.

Yet, I run into them a year later and they’re telling the same jokes, attending the same open mics, and facing the same frustrations. These aren’t lazy people. They’re hardworking people who’ve somehow stopped moving. For a long time, I assumed the problem was talent. Maybe they’d simply reached their ceiling. But the longer I’ve stayed in comedy, the less I believe that. The truth is that most comedians never come close to reaching their potential.

So, the real question isn’t whether these folks are capable of improving. Of course they are! The real question is: Why do capable people sometimes stop growing? A concept from psychology recently gave me a different way to think about that. It’s called “secondary gain,” and while the name sounds technical, the idea is simple: Sometimes we continue living with a problem because the problem itself is quietly giving us something we don’t want to lose. Sometimes we think we’re fighting the obstacle while another part of us is protecting it.

At first, that sounds ridiculous. Why would anyone want to stay stuck? The answer? The reward is usually hidden. Sometimes the problem protects us from rejection. Sometimes it protects our identity. Sometimes it gives us a ready-made explanation for why we haven’t become the person we hoped we’d become. Comedy is full of examples.

Take the comedian who says he wants paid work but never emails bookers. On the surface, it looks like procrastination. Underneath it, however, there may be something else happening. As long as he never reaches out, he never has to hear “no.” Staying where he is feels frustrating, but it also feels safe.

I’ve seen the same pattern with open mics, too. Every comedian complains about tiny crowds, inconsistent rooms, and short sets. At the same time, open mics come with remarkably low expectations. Nobody expects perfection. Nobody expects those comedians to headline. Thus, remaining there can become surprisingly comfortable while still allowing a comedian to tell himself he wants something bigger.

Another version appears after a comedian finally develops ten or twenty solid minutes. Instead of risking new material, he starts protecting the old material. Instead of becoming a better comedian, he becomes the protector of an older version of himself. Growth quietly gives way to preservation until what looked like confidence turns out to be fear wearing confidence’s clothes.

The most dangerous version I’ve noticed, however, involves identity. Every comedy scene has someone who believes they’re overlooked. Sometimes they’re absolutely right because comedy isn’t perfectly fair. But the danger begins when being overlooked stops being an experience and becomes an identity. Every missed booking reinforces the victim story. Every opportunity given to someone else becomes proof the system is broken. Before long, the comedian stops looking for ways to improve and starts looking for evidence that he’s right. Momentum quietly disappears because all of his energy is invested in protecting the narrative instead of challenging it.

I bring this up because, lately, this idea has changed the questions I ask myself when I feel stuck. Instead of asking, “Why isn’t this changing?” I’ve started asking, “What am I getting from staying in this situation?” It’s an uncomfortable question because it forces me to consider the possibility that I might be participating in my own stagnation. Maybe I’m protecting comfort instead of pursuing growth.

Look, the fact is that comedians who continue improving aren’t necessarily more talented than everyone else. What they do is become better at questioning their own stories before questioning everyone else’s. They stay curious about themselves instead of assuming they’ve already figured themselves out. And maybe that’s the real lesson behind secondary gain: The biggest problem in comedy isn’t always a lack of talent, opportunity, or motivation, it’s that sometimes we grow attached to the very thing we keep saying we want to escape because it protects us from something even scarier. The moment we recognize that, we can stop protecting the problem and start removing it. That’s when momentum returns. And that’s when growth begins again.

Now, if you’re looking for a place to grow your professionalism and skills, I recently published Comedy Mindhacks: 100 Mental Shifts To Help Comedians & Creatives Succeed for exactly that reason.

This entire book is built around helping comedians identify the mental obstacles that quietly slow their growth and steal their momentum. If this article resonated with you, I think you’ll find a lot more of that inside the book. You can check out sample pages HERE. If you’re not yet a subscriber, use code MH10LIVE at checkout HERE for 10% off. Free subscribers automatically receive 15% off, and paid subscribers receive 35% off because I’m a big believer in rewarding people who invest in themselves. 👉 Click HERE to grab the book.

And if you’re ready to double down in a BIGGER way, consider joining my Comedy Vault. It’s my private collection of premium resources, trainings, workshops, and tools designed to help comedians continue growing long after the initial excitement fades. The first bet gets you into the game. Doubling down is what changes who you become.👉 Click HERE to unlock the Comedy Vault.